Dos

               Sometimes when I walk I like to clear my mind and insert a blank sheet of paper. I imagine words being written across it in dark black ink as I try to form descriptions of my life and scenery at hand. It is as if I'm constantly invested in writing a book that won't ever be published as it will only be retained momentarily in that deep black space between my short term and long term memory. When I picture that space, I see all my wonderful short term memories swimming violently upstream like loyal salmon, but so few will ever reach that land of long term where they can be reflected upon and never lost.  Am I the only one that wishes my mind was laid out in wordperfect format where I could alter, save, and remove things as wished? At times I swear I can hear a typewriter clicking...

             This morning on my way to the anthropology building I found myself criss crossing through trees that resembled crooked black hands belonging to long deceased witches; the tips of which appeared to be wet with dripping honey. The contrast between fall leaves and grey skies left me feeling slightly spooked, as if my morning was being silently narrated into a Ray Bradburry novel. The cold gave my fingers a sensation of stubby frozen hot dogs, so I picked up the pace, hoping that by chance my theory classroom would be slightly less arctic. I was wrong. If the room would have been one degree colder, our breath would have been visible and our toes blackened by frostbite. We watched a film called Can Dialectic Break Bricks? It was a black and white japanese film translated into french with english subtitles. Needless to say, I found that there was a possible break between the interpretation and original intention. The film depicted a japanese community split into two groups representing bureaucrats vs. proletarians. The storyline was obviously a spoof on the original, and I felt like I was participating in a very profound science theater 3000. I guess you could say I took as many notes as possible but didn't feel a desire to ask where it could be purchased for personal obtainment of unlimited viewing.
             
            I spent the following hour seated in front of an enormous window facing campus in the union building. I watched the rain clouds tuck our summer sky into bed, and reassure it that winter is on its way. I can't wait to see the snow again. I've been away for the past two winters and felt the deprivation of its absence. I don't know if I enjoy the snow for its fond nostalgia, or the gloominess that sometimes I find myself delighting in. Is it bad to enjoy being gloomy? That almost sounds like an oxymoron. It's only on occasion that I feel like that, but when it comes, I feel it consume me. I find crying worth evoking. Maybe that's why I read novels that pull me along by an emotional noose, or prefer an umbrella over sunscreen. I don't believe myself to be a sad person, but it's definitely a side I like to preserve. Well, I'm off to work where my social circle consists of seven year olds who love speaking to me through code. AKA armpit farting and belly buttons. Life is wonderful and I find excitement and anticipation in this changing of season.